Morning wilderness
borders on the land of dreams –
a star winked at me


A matter of fact
is a matter of fiction –
so spring is my dream


Clock chimes the hour –
I don’t count, knowing only
that now stays afloat

Bothered Beaver

The bothered beaver
strikes the lake’s bass drum and dives
to white dog’s surprise

Pink Haze

Weeping cherry’s bloom
makes a pink haze on blue sky –
this grief’s delicate


The exquisite scent
of a blossom I don’t know –
would a name spoil it?

Lone Goose

Lone goose, white bellied,
under white clouds, streaking west,
squawking all the way

5 Hawks

5 hawks circling light
at Cross Campus and Osler –
what prey do they see?

Green Eyes

One green eye in sun
and one green eye in shadow –
question mark cat sleeps


A blue jay flashed through
the weeping cherry’s pink veil –
that was yesterday SF, April, 2008

More Like

Now I look more like
my father than like myself –
who was he am I?

Lovely Ugly

Lovely ugly croak
of a heron taking flight –
is mine different?

SF, 9 April, 2008

Cranes wait by the bay –
the Olympic torch is lost –
Everest stands still

A Streetcar

A streetcar renamed
lack of desire, how aging
brings want of wanting

Yellow Rimmed Eye

Small black bird, yellow
rimmed eye, tends a puddle where
cherry blossoms float


Fatigue and sorrow
mix with sixty year olds’ joys –
I’m past purity

Heat Wave, Point Reyes, April 12, 2008

Resplendent in warmth,
blue ocean, barely rolling –
ease, immensity


Wild iris scattered
throughout seaside cow pastures –
specks of majesty


Bird against blue, hawk
keeps its shadow on a string,
stains green grass with ink

Tomales Bay

Now the setting sun
casts the bay as silver plate –
breeze rustles the trees


Hills climb to the sky,
drop to their knees by the sea,
hold millenia


Black cattle lowing
on the hill confide in breeze
blowing from the sea


Four dusky quail walk
a dusty cow path – red winged
blackbirds sing in reeds


What crows have to say,
they speak in the squawkative,
the case that’s their own

No Rush

poppies, little cups of gold
in no rush at all

Coming Death

Close friend’s coming death
tells me the wind holds mine, too –
even the moonlight

My Death’s Horse

I am my death’s horse –
it rides me over the hills
to canter the beach


I’m trying to find
pearls in nightmare – what rubs there
makes all things precious


I hadn’t noticed
eucalyptus leaves glisten
in seaside sun, breeze


Hush of afternoon –
I’m coming back to myself,
whom I barely know


I fell asleep in
the tent of infinite dreams –
I’m a dragonfly

Free Turkey

Blue of gobbler’s face,
brown splendor of his ruffed tail –
turkey struts his stuff

Spring Hail, Seattle

Spring hail beats leaf drums –
sunshine yellow skunk cabbage
glows up from the ground

4:20 AM

I wake from my dream
to the first halting birdsong –
miracle’s music


Warbler singing high
in a tree – dinosaur, how
did it come to this?

Wind Combs

Wind combs wildflowers
on the hill’s spine by the sea –
if my hair could bloom… Point Reyes

Tamales Point

This spring spectacle –
millions of bright flower eyes –
every year, just now Point Reyes

Bolinas Lagoon

Black seals on a bar
flop about, enjoying spring
just the way I do

Twin Towers

Twin yellow pockmarked
morel towers – how eagerly
my eyes pick them out

May 11, 2008

When the sun comes out
I’m another me, someone
woken by the light

Tree Peony

The tree peony
sheds white petals like a tent
going to pieces

Dream – RAR, March 10, 2008

I swam to the side
of a dying friend, dripping
as we were at birth

Not Prepared

I was not prepared
for anything that transpired –
this, my life’s glory

On Black Lake

White swans on black lake,
white dogwoods blooming on shore,
white dog by my side

Never Been

Darkest miracle
is death, the return to where
we have never been

Gold Drop

I am very small
and getting smaller with each
gold drop of a day

After Hail

Sunshine after hail,
clouds true to no fixed purpose,
unsettled as mind

Buck A,K.

Did the buck that slammed
into your car mark you then
for an early death?


Cardinal’s wings’ whir
as scarlet bursts from a clump
of gold swamp iris

Close and Far

I am an old man
who once was young, memory
close and far as dream


The stir of the breeze
in the May green of the trees
as light keeps changing

Old Apple

Blue jay in the breeze
lights in the old apple tree,
stays a single beat

Wine Of Joy

In the wine of joy,
is the flavor of sorrow
and yet we drink it

Lip Of June

On the lip of June
this forest is enchanted –
a faun sleeps in grass


You, white, naked, new –
here are the snows of this year
which will melt in time


I’m trying to know
much less than I did before –
ambition’s a pest

Wonder Of Now

The wonder of now
is that it is always here
so I’m not alone

Dog Daze

The hammer of heat
comes crashing down before noon –
dog inhabits daze


I’m a wordworker
or is it that words work me,
take me for their wood?

Death Fruits

Death’s everywhere
and then fruits like a fungus
from the underground


In the heat, basil
plants pop up, tiny green spades –
I taste what they’ll be


Up the wild cherry
has the wisteria climbed,
lacking its own bones


White dog savors taste
of the very first black cap –
next come mulberries


Strange undertaking –
we sail out to meet our deaths
under bright blue sky

Black Cohosh

Phosphorescent white,
witches’ candles now ignite
rise up from the green


My thoughts walk with me
impersonate the tangles
of the climbing vines

June 11, 1977

That grief can sweeten
over vast stretches of time
is bitter wonder

Between Sets

Silence in the swamp
as the frogs rest between sets –
then a sudden twang


Two small spots of gold
sit up in a tree, feasting
on ripe mulberries


Yellow sunlight flaps
its wings – swallowtail crosses
creek from which deer drink

Late June Afternoon

White dog’s fast asleep –
rumble of distant thunder
competes with her snore

Sour Cherries For Pie

Red as winter coals,
but smooth and safe to the touch,
picked from their green orbs

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